Sweet Visions
by Docile Boy
Summary: Brenda has been dreaming... A [Brenda/Sharon] story that takes place during Major Crimes. My entry for the Month of Love on Tumblr - part 2 to follow.


She was having the dream again; naked, in a bed, on top of a similarly naked Sharon Raydor. The first few times her mind had conjured this scenario, months and months ago, it had so flustered Brenda that she had been unable to remain asleep. After a while, though, after real-life Sharon holding her hand through Goldman and Pope and the leak, cuddling up with naked dream-Sharon became her fondest escape. Even more so when circumstances with Stroh necessitated that Brenda move on from the LAPD and the job that she loved.

Not seeing Sharon every day had led to her unconscious fantasies becoming more detailed and more heated. At first, despite the nudity, the dreams were mostly just comforting. Her mind didn't give detail to the soft, warm body that held hers beneath the covers. Now, perhaps because of the physical separation from real-life Sharon, her interludes with dream-Sharon became more titillating. Invariably, Brenda woke from this particular dream feeling both cherished and aroused.

Tonight was different; instead of slipping her hands down to cup Brenda's ass, Sharon was shaking her, hissing her name in an unfriendly voice. Consternated, Brenda frowned. This was not the treatments she was accustomed to from her dream-Sharon.

"Brenda," the voice hissed again, and she realized it wasn't Sharon's voice at all, but her husband's with whom she still had the misfortune of sharing a bed. She opened her eyes.

"I'm tryin' to sleep - why on earth did you wake me up?" She hissed right back, unsure why she didn't just use a disapproving tone at a normal volume.

"I was trying to sleep, too," Fritz countered, and Brenda could tell by his tone that he was clenching his jaw. "You woke me up moaning and saying Sharon over and over again."

He sounded angry and disgusted. Probably similar to how she felt when she found out when he had accepted a job offer from Will Pope without even discussing it with her. She wasn't embarrassed; her cheeks flushed with spiteful pleasure that he finally knew this secret of hers. Well, at least part of it. Truthfully, she thought of Sharon constantly, and communicated with her as often as she could, which amounted to most days.

"I can't help who I dream about," snipped Brenda, pursing her lips primly and turning her back on him. Perhaps that wasn't completely true - if she had reasons to think fondly of Fritz, perhaps he would appear in her dreams in a pleasant role, instead of as an antagonist. But she didn't so he didn't, and she wasn't particularly bothered by their relationship descending into bitterness and acrimony, as callous as that sounded. She didn't think it was selfish or self-righteous to be royally pissed that her husband accepted a job offer from a man that had treated her like dirt. A man that Fritz had been unreasonably jealous of for years. With that act, his priorities became clear, and his relationship with her wasn't one of them. Her life with Fritz had become a waiting game - he had forced her to move out a house she loved so he could scatter his sports memorabilia around their new space, and she would be damned if he pushed her out of another space, even if she was uncomfortable in the kitchen and the guest bedroom.

Huffing at her bare back, Fritz turned away from her; Brenda could feel the mattress dip as he curled up as far on his side as he could manage. It seemed fitting, and she wasn't mourning.

Six weeks after the first sleep talking incident, Fritz had relegated himself to the guest bedroom. Her dreams of Sharon had only grown in their intensity, so she imagined her nocturnal outburst had similarly intensified. Occasionally, she wondered what she had said to finally chase her husband from their bed, but mostly, she didn't care; her dreams were quite pleasant, and Fritz sleeping in the guest bedroom was one step closer to him sleeping altogether elsewhere.

She observed his moping with a detached air, something that sometimes made her feel like she deserved his accusations of not being emotionally invested in their relationship, or even capable of sustaining a relationship, but then she would remember the endless tears she had wept, mourning the death throes of her marriage to a man that, in the end, did not respect her. But that was months ago, before he had retired from the FBI and accepted a job offer from her ex-lover; before she had lost all respect for him.

Though Brenda wasn't a woman prone to introspection, her realization of feeling numb much of the time since her anger at Fritz had dissipated into ennui made her want to seek out at least some of the contentment she felt in her dreams. Maybe it was crazy to think that the real Sharon Raydor could offer that to her, despite their now longstanding (though almost entirely text based) friendship, but the connection they had was real and Brenda could feel its strength even through their emails and text messages. She wanted that connection face to face - the excitement of building something new with someone who was already a good friend, someone she already trusted.

Brenda's palms were sweating. She rarely expected an immediate reply from Sharon - when one was in the middle of a case, conversations could so easily be interrupted - but sending what she'd sent, and not getting an immediate reply might drive her crazy, even if it had only been 24 minutes.

She woke up her phone, and swiped it unlocked.

_I would like to see you, if you're amenable - _was what she'd typed, feeling brave with a slightly crumpled dissolution packet stuffed in her purse. She'd been a few minutes late to work this morning after stopping by the courthouse to pick up the papers she would need to fill out and file in order to begin the divorce process. Though Brenda had been expecting to feel guilt or remorse, a profound sense of relief had filled her as she paid the few dollars and left.

Relief filled her again when one of her investigators knocked on the frame of her door, distracting her from her worry with a string of problems regarding a case due in court next week.

When Brenda returned from chasing down a prosecutor and organizing a treasure hunting mission to evidence storage, there was a message on her phone. She hadn't taken it with her because she would have been checking it incessantly; leaving it behind hadn't stopped her from thinking about it incessantly.

She was nervous because she honestly didn't know how Sharon would respond. For the past 2 years, their relationship had existed in this narrow box. It hadn't been a purposeful thing; Brenda had intended to stay away from Sharon and her former squad until they had carved out their own way of doing things with Sharon firmly at the helm, but her absence had continued for many reasons, some better than others. And once Fritz accepted his position as head of the Special Operations Bureau, Brenda despaired of ever being able to show her face at LAPD headquarters, for any reason.

But scared or no, she had started this, so she needed to nut up and read her damn text message. Her hands were shaking as she picked up the device.

_Really?_ It read. _That's fine with me. I'm free tonight after 7._

A sigh of relief rushed from Brenda's lungs, and some of the tension she'd been holding on to for the past few weeks fled her body. She knew she had been anticipating this, but this reaction was more intense what she'd expected.

Brenda arranged to meet Sharon at a wine bar near headquarters. It was quiet, and not the type of place frequented by your average cop, so Brenda hoped they could have an uninterrupted discussion, barring any interpersonal complications.

Unable to stretch her paperwork any further, Brenda arrived a bit early, claiming an out of the way booth and positioning herself so she could see the door, and Sharon's arrival. From their conversations, Brenda knew Sharon's tastes - crisp, fruity chardonnays - so she ordered a glass for Sharon, a merlot for herself and a plate of bruschetta. Would Sharon realize that Brenda had been paying attention to the little details? Did it matter, in the scheme of things?

Sharon traipsed through the bar's entrance a few minutes earlier than their stated meeting time of 7:15. Her electric blue dress was a startling pop of brightness against the dim interior of the restaurant. A far cry from the suits that Brenda remembered (and remembered very well - there was something about a confident woman wearing Armani that stuck with a person), but she immediately liked the change. Her heart fluttered impatiently, like a bird trying to take flight after a long imprisonment, and that, Brenda realized, wasn't far from the truth.

Brenda waved, wiggling her fingers in a nervous little dance, which Sharon acknowledged by heading her way.

"Hello, Brenda," Sharon husked as she slid into the booth. She smiled, bringing her laugh lines into sharp relief. Brenda's eye drank them in. She had missed that expression and the woman who made it; Sharon had been a surprising comfort in the last few months of her tenure at the LAPD.

"I'm glad you came," Brenda said. It was the best she could come up with between reminding herself to stay cool, and that she was a grown woman, not a teenage girl.

"I was surprised that you wanted to see me after so long." She picked up her glass of wine and tossed a little _salut _Brenda's way.

"I didn't intend to stay away so long," Brenda confessed, meeting Sharon's eyes, hoping that the other woman could see her sincerity.

"Oh?" Sharon countered with a raised eyebrow, and a sardonic sip of her wine. Like she didn't put much stock in the fact that she and Brenda had talked nearly every day since Brenda had left the department. Brenda knew that wasn't true - the discussions they'd had, long form through email, and through shorter text messages, told Brenda that Sharon was just as invested in this as she was. She was playing it cool, like Brenda was attempting to do. Trying not to show that she was scared.

"I knew you and the boys would need time to work out your own thing, without me around to influence them."

"Mmmm," hummed Sharon. "And what about influencing me?" She punctuated the question with a genuine quirk of her lips, unable to suppress the gentle teasing that frequently came out in their conversations. It was even more appealing face to face.

"Oh, please," Brenda protested, negligently flapping one hand in Sharon's direction. "You're perfectly sensible. I can't say the same for Provenza. Or Flynn. Those dopes have the strangest sense of appropriate loyalty."

Sharon laughed at that.

"You know its true!" Brenda insisted. "You managed to win them over faster than I did! It took over a year for Provenza to stop grumblin' at every little thing I told him to do!"

Sharon's eyebrow shot up again, and her smirk returned. "He'd grumble at the Queen of England if she tried to bestow a knighthood on him, Brenda."

"That he would. And he would ask her why she dragged him away from his baseball game for some sword plunking ceremony."

"Oh, that's a good one. He would absolutely give Her Majesty some attitude."

They shared a grin at the little humor, and things were good and easy for a bit, as they sipped that first glass of wine and munched on the bruschetta. They didn't have much catching up to do - they'd exchanged lengthy emails a few days ago, about current cases and the aftermath of Rusty's mother's appearance and news about Brenda's father. But after Brenda signaled the waitress for another round, the silence extended, filled with all the unsaid things that had prompted Brenda to reinitiate face to face contact. The ghosts of these conversations not held were an undeniable weight on her shoulders.

Their eyes met, and Brenda was unable to tear her gaze away, and unfortunately, unable to give voice to any of the syllables that could alleviate their mutual distress. Sharon, thankfully, rescued her.

"What are your intentions here, Brenda?" She asked, her tone gentle. "After so long, I was sure that you were content with our status quo."

"I didn't want it to be that way!" Brenda insisted. And she was surprised that she had gone so long interacting with someone primarily through text, but once she had become accustomed, it had been so easy to be honest and open through a medium that was a little less high pressure that face to face interaction. But even Brenda, who knew her powers of avoidance were second to none, was aware that the little safe space they'd created couldn't last forever. Even if Brenda **didn't** want to make a change their relationship, their comfortable bubble couldn't last forever. But did Sharon want a change, too, was the important question - the one that this get together was meant to answer.

"Are you more comfortable with keepin' things the way they've been the past few years?"

Sharon cocked her head, her unsettled hands flitting up to pull the mass of her hair over her shoulder. Brenda so rarely had witnessed the collected Captain Raydor fidgeting.

"I never felt like I was in a place to change things or push things with you. I was happy that we were still a part of each other's lives." Sharon paused and looked down, unable to meet Brenda's eyes, and even in the dim light of the bar, Brenda could see the faint color spreading across the Captain's cheeks. "I enjoyed getting to know you so well - I've never experienced anything like that before."

While she was elated that Sharon felt they had developed a special connection through their text contact, it made Brenda a little sick to her stomach that the other woman thought she couldn't advocate for her own needs even in the limited relationship that they had built.

"I've felt the same way about getting to know you, Sharon, but I want you to feel like you can get what you need out of our…relationship, too. I've learned a lot about honesty in the past few years - how important it is to not let things fester, you know."

"I do know, Brenda. I do." She narrowed her eyes and cocked her head at Brenda, inquisitive. "Do you feel like something has been festering between us?"

"Not so much as I've figured somethin' out about myself," Brenda hedged.

"Oh?" Sharon leaned forward intently, very curious about what Brenda was going to disclose.

"You're my closest friend - my only friend, maybe - and it would kill me to mess that up, but I have really strong feelings for you. More than friendship, Sharon. I want more than friendship."

"Oh," was all Sharon said, and Brenda's heart dropped into her stomach for a moment, she thought the wine and bruschetta were going to come rocketing out of her stomach and shoot across the table. She gulped, swallowing it all back.

"It doesn't haveta…nothing has to change, I just had to be honest with you, and with myself."

Sharon looked stunned, but Brenda could tell that her brain was churning - she was lost in her own world, thoughts racing. Brenda had seen it before when they'd worked a few cases together, and when Sharon was trying to figure out who in Major Crimes was Goldman's snitch.

"I don't…" Sharon started. "You never gave me indication that you were interested in women, Brenda, so I need a second to catch up with you here."

"Whatever you need, Sharon. I'll answer whatever questions you have - whatever you need."

Brenda was very nearly wringing her hands in anxiety. She hoped she could convince Sharon of her sincerity; convince her that this wasn't something she was approaching lightly.

"Have you ever been attracted to a woman before? Was this out of the blue for you?"

"Yes and no," said Brenda, considering how to best put this. "I knew I wasn't a zero on the Kinsey scale, as they say," she joked, and was gratified by Sharon's smile. "I'd noticed women, flirted on occasion, but I was never compelled to take it further than that."

"Why not?"

Brenda shrugged, trying to pretend her answer didn't matter, but aware that it might sink her chances. "Fear mostly - it was hard enough bein' a ball bustin' lady cop, bein' a ball bustin' gay lady cop mighta broken me, kept me from doin' what I wanted to do. And there was never anyone that woulda been worth that kind of trouble, anyways."

"You think I would be worth the trouble, then?" Sharon asked, her eyes a little hard, like she was daring Brenda to say that she was trouble.

"I think I have a very different definition of trouble than I did as a 30 or even 40 year old." She felt herself lick her lips, the action an unconscious one as her mind darted, unbidden, to the kinds of trouble she and Sharon could get in to.

When Brenda's mind's-eye cleared, Sharon was smirking. Brenda blushed.

"Well, I guess that answers my next question," Sharon teased. Her mercurial mood was throwing Brenda off, but Brenda had dropped a bit of a bomb on her, so she supposed Sharon was due a great deal of understanding.

"Your next question?"

"There was a woman once, a long time ago, that thought because we were good friends that a relationship would work. She wasn't at all attracted to me. I don't think that's the case with you."

Brenda lowered her eyes, blushing, her cheeks so hot that she thought they must be glowing. When she dared a glance up at Sharon, the look on the other woman's face was at the same time affectionate and hungry. Brenda was no longer worried about her feelings not being returned.

Feeling bold now, she met Sharon's eyes. "So, how would you feel about dating? And seeing what happens?"

"I would like that, Brenda, but I don't date married people. Even if I like them very much."

"Fritz'll be getting served his papers tomorrow." She held a hand to her heart at Sharon's skeptical look. "I promise - I'm not tryin' to pull one over on you."

"This could blow up for us, with Fritz working for the department now."

"You mean it could be trouble?" Brenda asked with a grin. "I thought we could take it real slow - you know, dinners in? So Rusty can get used to me? Low pressure stuff."

Sharon's smile at that was shy and pleased and Brenda's heart melted.

"I'd like that. I think Rusty would like that, too. We'll have to deal with that 'trouble' at some point, but I think I deserve to date my best friend and not care what anyone else thinks."

Brenda grinned at her and slid a hand across the table. Sharon did the same and they intertwined their fingers.

"I think you deserve that, too."


End file.
